


A particular brotherly feeling

by stuckwithminusharry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - To All the Boys I've Loved Before Fusion, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bi/Pan Solidarity, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Canon Het Relationship, Coming Out, Dating, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gay Character, Gay Seamus Finnigan, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pansexual Character, Pansexual Dean Thomas, Pining, Rom-com, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Sibling Bonding, Teen Romance, Teenagers, but also more or less canon compliant, canon doesn't change we just ignore her for a bit, fake dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckwithminusharry/pseuds/stuckwithminusharry
Summary: She has a brother and an ex-boyfriend to spite, and he desperately needs a date. So when the rumour that Harry and Ginny are together makes the rounds at Hogwarts, she has the ridiculous idea to use it to their advantage and play along. Harry wants to help her out just like any brother would, and that is the ONLY reason he says: “Okay. Deal.”





	1. November

**Author's Note:**

> This story was requested by katiechasedbells on Tumblr. Well, Emi requested Hinny + TATBILB-esque fake dating. I added the Christmas theme, because Christmas is great.
> 
> Rated T for f-bombs, f-bombs, and more f-bombs, some innuendo so light it could be referred to as Diet Innuendo, and some slightly heavier themes as the story unfolds.
> 
> Happy holidays! If you’ve seen To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, enjoy digging for the Easter eggs I've left you.

 

_Santa tell me, if you're really there_  
_Don't make me fall in love again_  
_If he won't be here_  
_Next year_

Santa tell me - Ariana Grande

 

“… and I guess that’s all I came here to say.”

Dean carefully raises his head to see her reaction, shifting on his feet. Judging from the way he is struggling to meet her eyes, it’s clear he wants this conversation to be over just as much as she does. “I’m sorry, Ginny.”

Ginny nods once to indicate she understands. She does – perhaps more than she likes to admit.

“Thanks for being honest, at least.”

Dean’s shoulders relax, and she can’t help but wonder just how worried he was about ending up at the receiving end of a particularly vicious Bat-Bogey hex.

“I hope Seamus knows he’s lucky”, she says. When a deep red flush creeps up Dean’s dark cheeks, she doesn’t fight the urge to roll her eyes. “C’mon, how oblivious do you think I am?”

To this, Dean says nothing: He’s suddenly fascinated by his own shoelaces, and Ginny considers that answer enough.

“Thanks for understanding”, he says finally.

Ginny finds herself untangling the arms she had kept crossed over her chest. “It’s fine. I get it.” She tugs at the crimson-and-gold scrunchie around her wrist and shrugs. “You gotta do what you gotta do, yeah?”

Dean smiles at her flatly, and that’s it. He squeezes her shoulder before he turns around, leaving her standing in the half-dark of the short passageway.

Ginny glares at the heavy crimson tapestry that hides the short cut to Gryffindor Tower. Only days ago, the two of them were snogging each other in this very spot like their lives depended on it. At least until Harry and Ron barged in on them and ruined the moment.

That reminds her she has somewhere to be, so she takes one last look and then turns her back on the spot.

She never would have guessed this is where they’d break up.

  


***

  


Just as Ginny makes it back to her dormitory, Harry Potter jumps down a flight of stairs several floors below. He’s late for Quidditch practice, his team – Ron – is still playing inconsistently, to say the least, and like that isn’t enough to worry about, he catches the eye of none other than Romilda Vane when he finally makes it to the bottom of the marble staircase.

“Hiya, Harry!”

“Quidditch practice”, Harry tells her abruptly, rushing past her.

To his dismay, shaking her off is no easy feat, and she’s still keeping up with him when he marches outside with the longest strides he can manage.

“Rumour has it you still haven’t found a date Slughorn’s Christmas party!”, she tells his back. Harry sighs at the cloudy sky – one, because that damn party is giving him headaches to rival Voldemort’s, and two, because she’s absolutely right. “So, I was _thinking …”_

Not that he’s planning on telling Romilda Vane that.

“I’ve – uh – found someone, actually”, he says.

“Really?”, she says, sounding slightly crestfallen. Harry notices it not without satisfaction. “Who?”

“It’s a – surprise”, Harry says wildly, wondering how on earth she doesn’t notice he’s making all this up on the spot. “Well, uh, practice calls, see you around!”

And with that, he all but runs off down to the Quidditch pitch, where his disgruntled-looking team is waiting for him.

Merlin help him, he’s got to find a date.

He’s just opened his mouth to apologise to his teammates when he spots someone running towards them from the other end of the pitch. As they come closer, he recognises Ginny, who’s rather unceremoniously pulling her long, fiery hair into a ponytail using the Gryffindor scrunchie around her wrist.

“Where’ve _you_ been?”, Harry asks, snapping into his Captain self, when she finally jogs up to them.

“None of your business”, she shoots back. “Captain”, she adds, when he raises an eyebrow at her.

With great effort, Harry keeps from grinning, and he’s still fighting an inexplicable jolt of smugness when he says: “Alright, everyone, time to get going before the rain does …”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Ginny swing a leg over her broom and kick herself off the ground with more force than strictly necessary. She shoots into the sky like a missile, her long, flaming ponytail trailing after her, a bursting streak of colour against the dark grey clouds looming over them.

  


Of course, the rain doesn’t wait for them to finish practice. The seven of them stick it out for a full hour before Harry takes pity on them, so they retreat to the castle, shivering, soaking wet and, if possible, in an even worse mood than before.

On the way back to the common room, the team falls into the usual groups, and Ginny finds herself walking between Ron – who’s dragging his broom after him with slouched shoulders – and Harry, who catches her eye when she looks over at him.

“You alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, you know, just the general murderous attitude”, he says, probably because there’s no non-awkward way to say _something is clearly wrong, but I’m afraid you’re gonna hex me if I_ _ask you outright._

Still, his tone and his grin loosen the knot at the pit of Ginny’s stomach a little. Ever since last summer, she hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that he’s trying to establish himself as some sort of honorary big brother to her, and another one of those is the last thing she needs at the moment.

It also doesn’t feel _like them_ at all.

Like the aftertaste of a truly lousy practice and the pent-up energy she’d been saving for Quidditch isn’t enough to drive her up the wall, she now finds her thoughts circling back to her boyfriend – _ex-_ boyfriend – and it doesn’t even bring the rush of angry self-righteousness she’d hoped for. Instead, she feels oddly deflated, and Merlin, she’d have chosen any fucking thunderstorm over this.

And it’s not – _heartbreak._ Even as the weight of the breakup sinks down on her, Ginny finds she has no desire to fling herself on her four-poster bed and sob into her pillow until all the crying gives her a headache: something she’s watched every single one of her roommates go through at least once. She would have expected to feel some sort of shock or betrayal – at least a little despair – but there’s nothing. Not quite.

By the time they’ve changed into dry clothes, the common room is packed, and the armchairs closest to the fireplace are all occupied, so they sit cross-legged on the thick, scarlet carpet and begrudgingly spread their homework across the floor. Harry is still doing his utmost to build up Ron’s spirits again, who seems to have fallen into his usual post-practice hole of self-loathing, but Ginny pays them no attention and gets started on a half-hearted History of Magic essay instead.

She lets herself be distracted when Harry gives up on trying to talk sense into Ron and scoots closer to the fireplace with an exasperated sigh. Happy to think about anything else, she gives him what she hopes is a compassionate sort of grin and says: “Sorry practice was lousy, Captain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he says with a smirk. “Practice was spectacular.”

Behind them, Ron snorts into his homework, and Harry turns to him. “Come on, it _wasn’t_ that bad and you know it.”

Ron and Ginny simultaneously raise their eyebrows. Just then, Ginny can see Dean climb through the portrait hole, and because that’s the _last_ thing she wants to think about right now, she turns to Harry and says: “Look on the bright side, it can’t get much worse from here.”

“Don’t challenge him”, Harry mutters – quietly, so only she can hear him.

Ginny laughs with more enthusiasm than the joke deserves, in the hopes to distract him, but unfortunately, Harry isn’t that oblivious. He follows Ginny glances and looks over his shoulder to see Dean standing in the middle of the common room, looking oddly out of place, and back to Ginny, who’s been trying – and failing – to avoid eye contact.

Even worse, it seems to have caught Ron’s attention, too.

“What’s going on with you two?”, Harry asks, perfectly casual.

Ginny plays with a dog-ear on the upper right corner of her Transfiguration paper, where the y of her last name has disappeared in the crease. “We broke up”, she says shortly.

A small silence falls, but it’s not Harry who catches her attention first.

“What?”, she snaps at Ron when she sees his face.

“Nothing”, he says, not quite meeting her eye. And then, very quietly: “Well, I’m sure it won’t take you long to find someone new.”

Right there and then, Ginny would _love_ to push him into the fucking fireplace. She opts to get to her feet instead, because she isn’t going to _sit_ here and let her brother _slut-shame_ her like _he,_ of all people, would know what the _fuck_ he’s talking about. “You know what, Ron?”, she spits, loud enough for half the common room to hear. “Go _fuck_ yourself. Figure you could use the experience.”

And with one last glance at Ron’s quickly reddening face, she storms out of the common room.

  


The miserable day stretches and becomes a week. Slughorn’s party blows up in the back of Harry’s mind like a disgustingly sparkly balloon until it consumes his every thought, and while he’s not particularly pleased about it, he decides it’s time to ask for advice.

So, when he catches Hermione on the way to lunch, he decides to bite the bullet.

“Hermione – who do I ask to this stupid party?”

“Harry! Merlin, I thought you would have _found_ someone by now!” Harry fights the urge to sigh at the sight of Hermione’s shocked expression. “It’s in less than three weeks!”

“Which is plenty of time”, Harry tells her firmly. “It’s just, uhm …”

“You’re trying to get your admirers off your back”, she says matter-of-factly, rummaging through her bag.

Harry grimaces. “If you have to put it like that. Well – I kind of told Romilda Vane I’ve _got_ a date because she wouldn’t leave me alone, but if I don’t find one soon, she’s going to figure out I lied. Plus – I really don’t know who to ask.”

“ _Anyone_ , Harry”, says Hermione in her most exasperated voice. “Ideally, someone impressive enough to get Romilda off your back for good, although, between you and me, I’m not convinced that kind of person exists. But there’s got to be _someone.”_

“You’re one to talk, who are you bringing?”, Harry shoots back at her.

Hermione blushes a pale shade of pink, but doesn’t reply.

  


By sheer virtue of not being in the same year, Ginny and Dean manage to avoid each other during the days following the breakup. On the rare occasion that they do pass each other in the hallway or in the common room, they give each other polite smiles, which, at the very least, is an improvement from her last breakup.

Regardless: It turns out that even the most amicable breakup in history leaves traces that sting, so she spends the rest of the week throwing out all every bit of homework that Dean has ever doodled on – tiny sketches and notes in the margins for her to find in class the next day. On Wednesday, he sheepishly gives back her scarf, and by Thursday night, she’s learned to avoid their regular armchair in the common room.

Less than a week to untangle their lives.

Apart from Dean, she’s been avoiding Ron as well, who continues to be his usual, insufferable self. Ginny doesn’t think she can handle another snide remark about her and Dean without exploding and taking everyone in a radius of ten miles with her, so perhaps it’s fortunate they’re both so busy with schoolwork she hardly sees him.

Ron is neither the only person to raise an eyebrow at Ginny’s dating habits, nor is he the first – that honour goes to the twins – and it’s not particularly new or surprising either, but all that makes it worse, if anything. As far as Ron is concerned, Ginny has snogged a dashing total of two people in her entire life, and she’ll be damned if she lets him shame her for that.

It’s only Luna no one knows about. But if Ron is so determined to make her feel like a horrible person because she has the _audacity_ to snog exactly two different boys, she’s not about to throw a girl into the mix and watch what he does with that extra ammunition.

Dick.

She’s marching down a hallway near the Transfiguration wing, arms crossed, when she hears laughter from nearby, and just as she stops, Michael Corner and Cho Chang come around a corner, and arm in arm at that.

The three of them come to an awkward halt with half the hallway still between them. Ginny and Michael make reluctant eye contact.

“Hi, Michael.”

Michael opens his mouth as if to answer, but then something in his face flickers: he deliberately takes his time as he turns to Cho, appearing not to have heard Ginny at all, and kisses her flat on the mouth.

And while that’s a nice – and noisy – reminder why breaking up with him was one of Ginny’s better decisions, watching him flaunt how glad he is to be shot of her is the _last_ thing she needs today. She pushes past them, almost knocking over a bewildered-looking third-year, and stomps down a flight of stairs, where she promptly runs into Harry.

“Hey”, he says, blinking at her. “What’s going on?”

“I’m plotting a murder”, she says briskly. “Happy?”

“As long as it’s not mine.”

Ginny grins despite herself. He already has that disgusting, protective look on his face she’s come to loathe so much – but they’re friends, _real_ friends, so she tells him about Dean and Michael and Ron, in short, clipped sentences that clearly indicate she doesn’t want pity.

“Alright”, she says when she’s blown off enough steam to feel like she can go for the rest of the conversation without yelling. “Your turn. Really, I could use the distraction.”

Harry looks over his shoulder when the nearing sound of many feet on stone indicate dinner at the Great Hall is over. He sighs.

“Our team is giving me a stomachache, is all”, he says. “Ron and Hermione aren’t really talking right now, so I get to decide who I feel like hanging out with today, which is fun. Uhm – Voldemort is out there, I guess.”

Ginny snorts.

“And I need a date for Slughorn’s stupid Christmas party”, he says over the humming of the students scuttling past them. “Which is clearly the most stressful thing out of all of these. Hey, Colin, what’s up?”, he adds with little enthusiasm when the startlingly blond kid – Ginny recognises him from class, but they’ve never talked much – turns around and blinks at the pair of them, at least until the dinner crowd runs him over.

Ginny turns back to Harry, who sighs. “Thanks for letting me vent, anyway, Harry.”

“Any time,” he says, looking slightly startled when she pats his arm. “Happy to help.”

  


In hindsight, they absolutely should have seen it coming.

Friday becomes a Hermione day because Harry begrudgingly decides he needs to visit the library, and he can’t convince Ron to accompany him. He hasn’t even made it down to the right floor yet when she comes running towards him, her bushy hair flying in all directions.

“You asked _Ginny!”_

It’s not a question.

“I what now?”

“Oh, come on, Harry, half the school is talking about it anyway. When did you ask her? Since when has this been going on? Why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Hermione, what on _earth_ are you talking about?”

Hermione’s face adopts the tragic look Harry has come to associate with her not being able to answer McGonagall’s questions – something he doesn’t get to see a lot. “Slughorn’s party, Harry. Everyone’s talking about how you’re bringing Ginny, and rumour has it you’re going out and all that.”

“And since when do you mindlessly believe rumours?”

“I don’t!” She seems offended. “But you _did_ say you were looking for a date, and it makes complete sense to bring Ginny! Frankly, I was almost surprised you hadn’t considered it sooner. So, are you not –”

“There you are!”

Harry looks up, and his stomach jolts: Ginny is running towards them, her long, flaming hair flying behind her.

“Hi, Hermione, Harry, I need to talk to you _right now.”_

“I –” Harry lets himself be dragged away by Ginny, who’s grasped his hand and is now pulling him behind her until they’ve found an empty classroom.

“What’s going on?”

“So, I take it you’ve heard the rumours”, she says, locking the door with her wand.

Harry looks at her with wide eyes. “Yeah, what –”

“Have you told Hermione it’s not true?”

“I was going to when you kidnapped me!”

She crosses her arms and looks at him with a glint of mischievousness in her eyes that reminds Harry of the twins. “You haven’t. Great.”

“Who made that up, anyway?”

Ginny shrugs. “My money is on Colin. He probably heard more than we realised the other day.”

It takes Harry a second to remember what she’s talking about. “For the record, I wasn’t _asking_ you – I was just _telling_ you –”

“I know that. I guess it _sounded_ like you were asking me or something.”

“And apparently we’re dating, too?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard that one, too”, she says. “They’re all insane, I’ve had to explain to three of my friends that we didn’t make out behind the greenhouses in the last hour alone.”

Harry feels himself blush. Ginny bites her bottom lip and grins. “I’m assuming you still really need that date.”

“Well – y-yeah, but …”

“And I wouldn’t mind a way to get back at Michael. _And_ Ron.”

“What … does that have to do with me?”

“You see, out of all the people at this school …” She steps closer. “I reckon it would piss him off the most if I dated his best mate. So, the way I see it, we could help each other out here.”

Harry stares at her in stunned silence. Then: “You’re saying we play along.”

Ginny nods, and Harry’s mind runs into a thousand directions at once, pulling at every limb.

This is insane.

This is _Ginny._

Ron’s going to kill him.

No was never an option.

_Ron is going to kill him._

“So, what, we – pretend we’re actually together?”

“Yeah. Just for a while.”

Harry only hesitates to declare her insane because he’s quickly beginning to see the appeal. If he shows up to Slughorn’s party with not just a date, but a _girlfriend,_ and it’s _Ginny Weasley_ – well, that might just get Romilda to leave him alone for good.

“Ron’s going to kill me.”

“I’m told you have a knack for surviving the impossible”, she says, wiggling an eyebrow.

Can’t argue with that.

And the truth is, he can understand why Ginny would want to stick it to Ron. Not that he’d ever _tell_ Ron that. Harry doesn’t have a death wish after all.

His mind zooms back to the day they walked in on Dean and Ginny, and the weird surge of protectiveness he had felt. That’s the only _real_ feeling he’s ever had towards her, he tells himself firmly – so isn’t dating her the perfect chance to prove that?

He wants to help her out just like any brother would, and that is the _only_ reason he says: “Okay. Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm typing this, it's the evening of the 24th of December, and I'm lying on the couch with my Mum and my very fuzzy new Hogwarts blanket, watching Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, because there is no Harry Potter movie more christmassy than the first one. (I /will/ fight you on this.)
> 
> Since I'm German, we've already opened all our presents and despite that very fat Christmas tree next to us that says otherwise, Christmas is basically over. Good thing then that this Christmas story is just beginning, then! If everything goes according to plan (it doesn't tend to do that with me, but we can hope on a Christmas miracle, yeah?), you'll get Chapter 2 tomorrow and Chapter 3 on Boxing Day. I'm not making any promises, but between you and me, I'm not busy.
> 
> Merry Christmas! Let me know if you liked it.


	2. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This chapter is officially just called December, but between you and me, I think Denial December has its appeal. By the way, there's a playlist/soundtrack belonging to this fic, consisting of 4 Christmas jams, 3 songs from the TATBILB soundtrack, and 2 tracks from the Harry Potter soundtrack.
> 
> You can listen to that on my Spotify, if you fancy: https://open.spotify.com/user/stuckwith-harry/playlist/2u89IK6Z9POccPXhmsYq0p?si=5yLSIFizSv2i7p_sypvEnA
> 
> Enjoy!

“ _Show a little loving  
Shine a little light on me”_

Lovers - Anna Of The North

 

Because he’s Harry Potter, and she’s Ginny Weasley, the rumour spreads ridiculously fast. From that point on, it’s a simple matter of keeping up the illusion, and soon enough, the hallways of Hogwarts are positively buzzing with gossip.

It’s ridiculous and a bit off-putting, Harry thinks, that a very real war is looming right outside the castle’s windows, that the Daily Prophet doesn’t go three days without reporting another disappearance anymore, and as soon as he’s spotted sticking his hand into Ginny’s back pocket, it’s the talk of the school. Still, he can’t deny there’s something weirdly pleasing about watching an entire common room full of students spin around and rather unsubtly crane their necks to stare at them as soon as they climb through the portrait hole together.

They set up a contract back in their deserted classroom, signed it, and made a copy for each. Harry remembered a spell from last year, and enchanted both pieces of parchment: To everyone but the two of them, their contracts would look like Potions homework.

“Sneaky”, said Ginny, sounding impressed.

The rules are simple: She goes to the Slughorn’s Christmas party with him. They go to Hogsmeade together, should the occasion arise, and sit next to each other in the Great Hall. No tongue when they kiss. And _absolutely_ no snitching.

So on Saturday morning, the all but strut into the Great Hall, floating on the rare feeling of being in on the joke. It’s peak breakfast time, easily the busiest hour of the morning. The quest: Confirm the rumour that’s spreading around the castle like a particularly lovesick Devil’s Snare.

A simple enough feat, all things considered.

“Ready?”, she asks, looking up at him.

Harry holds her gaze and nods.

“Let’s do this.”

Several dozen pairs of eyes follow them as they march into the Great Hall, their entangled hands swinging happily between them. Harry spots the Creevey brothers frantically elbowing each other in the ribs as he and Ginny walk up to the Gryffindor table. The plan they’ve agreed on before coming down here makes his heart thump in his chest.

They find a spot on the bench wide enough for both of them, and before they sit down, she turns around, puts her hand on the back of his neck and kisses him on the mouth.

When Harry comes to his senses again, he looks around to find half the students present unabashedly staring – he fights the flush that creeps up his neck, grins at Ginny and quickly sits down next to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he registers a third-year Hufflepuff standing up on the wooden bench to get a better look; two Ravenclaw boys from Ginny’s year whispering heatedly; Romilda and Ron’s open mouths.

“Tossers”, Ginny mutters, looking rather pleased with the whole thing. She leans into him, covering her mouth with her hand when she whispers into his ear: “Good job, by the way.”

Harry glances past her at Ron, who’s sitting a few seats further down the Gryffindor table and looks like he just choked on his porridge. Their eyes cross when Ron spots him staring – he raises his eyebrows and mouths, _What?_

Harry shakes his head and looks away.

It doesn’t change the fact that he _hates_ lying to Ron, but over the next few days, they hardly have a chance to talk. With school and Quidditch keeping them busy, the match against Slytherin rapidly approaching, there’s no time to discuss his relationship with Ginny in detail. Harry finds he’s rather relieved.

 

“I could kill him”, Ginny says loudly over the rumble of the Gryffindor victory party, handing Harry a butterbeer. “I could _kill him,_ that hypocritical, entitled, self-righteous _git.”_

Harry doesn’t bother to ask who she’s talking about. “What did he do now?”

Ginny scoffs and points across the room. Harry follows her index finger with his eyes and spots Ron on the other side of the common room, where he’s snogging Lavender Brown rather enthusiastically.

“I could kill him”, Ginny reinforces, clearly eager to emphasise that particular sentiment. “And I kind of want to vomit.”

Harry has something else on his mind, though. “Is Hermione still here?”

“Haven’t seen her.”

“Mind if I disappear for a second?”

“You go. Want me to hold your butterbeer?”

Harry spots Romilda Vane watching them and takes that as an excuse to kiss Ginny goodbye before he slips through the portrait hole. She watches him leave, but he doesn’t notice.

When he finds Hermione, she’s sitting on the teacher’s desk of an unlocked Charms classroom, an entire flock of little yellow birds flying in a circle around her head, quietly twittering.

“Er”, he says. “Hi.”

She looks at him with a very odd expression on her face.

“Oh, Harry – you should be back at the party, I’m sure Ginny’s waiting for you.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m happy for you, anyway”, she says into the silence. “I had a feeling about you two.”

“How?”, Harry wants to ask, but before he can, Ron and Lavender come barging in, and that clearly poses the bigger problem at the moment.

 

Lavender does keep Ron busy, which means Harry doesn’t have to worry about their friendship imploding _just_ yet, as he manages to avoid the topic of Ginny altogether on the rare occasion that the two of them do hang out. Oddly enough, Ron doesn’t bring it up either, and Harry decides it’s for the best, not exactly keen on a confrontation. He takes the same approach when it comes to Hermione, because while her comment from the day of the match hardly leaves his mind, he doesn’t particularly enjoy lying to his friends.

Unfortunately, that still leaves the mindbogglingly nosy rest of the school.

“So, how long has this been going on?”, purrs Lavender, who’s sitting on Ron’s lap. Ron, in turn, is trying to read over his Potions essay and doesn’t interact apart from regularly shooting Harry glances he thinks he doesn’t notice. There’s something oddly searching in them, and Harry doesn’t like it at all. He stares straight ahead at the Gryffindor Christmas tree, counting the crimson red baubles.

“Since you heard about it, I guess”, says Ginny, who’s sitting next to Harry on the most popular sofa in the common room, right in front of the fireplace. She’s flipping through the Daily Prophet and doesn’t bother to look up, though Harry has a feeling she must be as acutely aware of Ron’s presence as he is. “We really thought we could keep it secret for a bit, but the news travelled so quickly, it’s almost like the rest of the school knew before we did.”

Harry blinks and stares at her. She winks.

It quickly turns out it wasn’t their most cunning move to start this conversation when the common room is as packed as it is. More and more Gryffindors, some of which Harry has never spoken to, suddenly come over to sit or stand around their sofa and needle them with questions.

“ _How_ did it start?”

“Well, we were already friends, so –” Harry looks to Ginny for help, wondering if she’s also thinking about how idiotic it was not to come up with a backstory ahead of time.

“One thing led to another”, she says simply. Harry can’t quite place the look on her face. “It’s like – you look at someone as a friend, and at some point it shifts, and you see something else instead.”

“What made you like the other?”, asks a girl from Ginny’s year.

“Oh, I’m just dating him for his fame and money, didn’t you know?”

The little crowd break into reluctant chuckles – Harry actually has to bite into his fist to keep his grin from turning into real laughter.

“What about you, Harry?”, the girl presses on.

“Yeah, what about you?”, Harry hears Ron ask.

_Uh oh._

But Ginny looks at him, and he feels their classmates’ eyes on him as much as he doesn’t.

“She’s funny”, he says after a beat of silence. “She’s cool, and – I really like hanging out with her.”

The Gryffindors around them giggle and sigh.

Harry stares into the fireplace so he doesn’t have to look at Ginny.

 

Hogwarts’ new and unfading interest in Harry and Ginny’s relationship comes with another considerable upside, which is that Dean and Seamus can start dating without attracting almost any attention. Ginny knows better than to expect it’s not a huge relief for both of them.

“Seamus hadn’t told anyone he’s gay before”, Dean tells her one day. “So, I guess I have to thank you for being a massive gossip magnet at the moment. It makes the whole thing a lot easier to navigate.”

Ginny finds herself grinning. “Any time. You look really happy together.”

“Thanks. And – you too.”

“Yeah …”

It’s their first real conversation since the breakup. They both stare around the half-empty common room, until finally, Ginny pats his shoulder, and says: “Well – I was gonna go and see Harry before class, so … take care, yeah?”

“See you around.”

With that, she climbs through the portrait hole.

As expected, she spots Harry in the crowded Charms corridor, miraculously without company. She can already feel several pairs of eyes following her, so she walks up to him with a wide grin and grabs his face with both hands before she kisses him.

He kisses her back rather more enthusiastically than expected. When they break apart, he’s smiling, _really_ smiling, and says: “W-What was that one for?”

Ginny smirks. “I saw Michael coming this way.”

Harry quickly looks over his shoulder. Sure enough, Michael Corner is standing on the far end of the corridor, looking thoroughly annoyed.

“Oh, yeah”, he says, turning back to her. “Of course.”

“I can’t believe this is working. Tosser.” She suddenly grabs his hand, making Harry’s heart jump into his throat. “Here. I wanted you to have this.”

She pulls the Gryffindor-coloured scrunchie off her wrist and pushes it over his hand with a grin. “There.”

“Thanks”, Harry says, “but I don’t really suit ponytails.”

Ginny rolls her eyes at him, but grins. “Just don’t lose it, will you?”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

That’s a response that pleases her greatly. Before she can say anything, she notices Ron walk up to them, Lavender holding onto his arm with fierce determination. He comes to an awkward halt before he reaches Harry and Ginny, standing in the middle of the hallway.

“What are you looking at?”, Ginny asks him, loud enough for half the people present to hear.

Something flickers in Ron’s face. His ears turn a pale shade of red. “Nothing”, he says, his jaw clenching.

Ginny turns to Harry. “Also, there’s a Hogsmeade weekend in January. Reckon you’d like to go with me?”

“Last I checked, it was in the contract”, he says quietly, one eyebrow twitching.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I have Herbology, so I’d better hurry. Hey, Ron! Watch and learn.”

With that, she stands on her tiptoes to kiss Harry goodbye, lingering a few seconds for good measure.

“See you later?”

“Definitely.”

 

Ginny makes it to Herbology only three minutes too late and counts that as a success. She slides into the seat next to Luna, who’s already put on her protective goggles, which enlarge her eyes even more than usual.

“You look pleased”, she observes.

Nothing quite like sticking it to your brother in front of two dozen people, Ginny reckons. Yes, that’s definitely it.

Even though there’s something rather unsettling about tickling the sleeping dragon only to find the dragon unwilling to reciprocate. Ginny and Ron don’t _do_ the silent treatment. They do spectacular shouting matches that make the walls of the castle tremble. That’s how they work.

That’s how they’ve always worked.

“Excited for Slughorn’s party”, she says. “That’s all.”

There is exactly one person in the entire castle Ginny never expected to fool, and that’s Luna. Which is why she is surprised, to say the least, when Luna looks at her with her abnormally large eyes and says: “You know, I’m glad you’re going out. He makes you really happy, doesn’t he?”

“Uh … yes. Absolutely. Hm-hm.”

Ginny grabs her own protective goggles, pulls her Dragon-hide gloves over her fingers, and forcefully pushes Harry out of her mind.

 

Christmas is upon them before they see it coming. Seemingly overnight, the usual twelve Christmas trees – enormous and tinsel-laden as always – show up in the Great Hall. Shapeless, mushy snowflakes stick to the castle’s windows and soak the hems of their robes on their way to the greenhouses. Even the Gryffindors prefer to retreat to the comfort of the common room after class, and Peeves gets in trouble for attempting to strangle a group of second-years with a string of enchanted fairy lights.

On the night of Slughorn’s party, Harry spends twenty whole minutes trying to flatten his hair before he decides he’s fighting a losing battle. By the time he starts to wonder when exactly he started to care about his hair this much, he’s running late, so he all but jumps into his dress robes, tucks his wand into his pocket, and triple-checks that the scrunchie around his wrist is still there.

He rushes down into the common room and stumbles to a halt when he spots Ginny, who’s sitting on the arm of a sofa near the portrait hole.

Her red hair is cascading down her back in small, soft waves, explaining the thick, long braid she’d been sporting earlier. She’s wearing a dress made out of a velvety, pine-green fabric, with slim straps over her freckled shoulders.

“Uh. You look nice.”

She looks up. “I was just about to send a search team”, she smirks. “You too. Ready to go?”

“All set. And – you know, thanks for doing this.”

Ginny pats his arm. “Hey, I’m a girl who keeps her promises. You haven’t seen Hermione, have you? I looked for her in her dormitory, but I didn’t find her.”

“I guess she’s already there”, Harry says as they climb through the portrait hole. On the other side, Ginny grabs his hand.

“Who the hell shows up to a party early?”

Harry fights his grin in vain.

 

Slughorn’s party decoration is downright overwhelming at first glance. Every wall in his spacious office is draped in shimmery emerald, crimson and gold fabric, and Harry hasn’t taken five steps yet when he notices he’s got glitter in his hair.

“ _How?”,_ he says loudly, looking at the ceiling.

“Hold still”, says Ginny. She brushes over the top of his hair, causing Harry’s stomach to perform something that feels a lot like a spectacular nosedive.

_Uh oh._

“All better”, she says. “Do you –”

“D’youwannagogetdrinks?”

Ginny’s eyes narrow in amusement. “Sure.”

They just about manage to grab a glass of champagne each when Slughorn spots them at last, his booming voice making half the room look up when he thunders: “Harry, m’boy!”

“Good evening, Professor …”

“And I see Miss Weasley is your date tonight!”, Slughorn roars good-naturedly. “Splendid!”

“Well, I’m his girlfriend”, says Ginny.

Harry chokes on his champagne. Ginny smirks and pats his back, letting her hand linger on the small of his back for the rest of the conversation.

They talk to Slughorn and the circle of people that slowly join the conversation until they decide with a silent exchange of glances they’ve killed enough time to sneak away. They find an empty table in a corner of the office and spend the next glass and a half people-watching, muttering jokes to each other and snickering under their breaths.

“Do you get _tired_ of people begging you to let them write your biography?”

“Yeah, you know, I still haven’t figured out what that’s all about. I’ve had a very boring life.”

Ginny looks at him with a warm, fuzzy feeling filling her stomach that she blames on the champagne. “Yeah, well –”

Just then, they notice someone coming towards their table and look up.

“Hermione!”, Harry says when she reaches them. “Who are you running from?”

“Uhm”, says Hermione, who’s slightly out of breath and flushing under their stares. “Cormac … McLaggen.”

Harry blinks at her. _“Cormac?_ You invited Cormac McLaggen?”

Hermione stubbornly refuses to look at him. “I figured it would annoy Ron the most.”

“Glad to hear we’re all on the same team here”, Ginny smirks, pushing her champagne glass towards her.

“Oh, no thanks, Ginny, I’ve already had plenty … well, I’ll leave you to it …”

She gives them both a weirdly knowing smile, and just like that, she’s gone.

“Does make you wonder”, says Ginny thoughtfully. “What do you reckon pisses Ron off more, Hermione dating McLaggen, or me dating you?”

“To be fair, he hasn’t murdered either of us yet. I’m taking that, by the way”, Harry says, reaching for her glass. “How come I didn’t know you’re such a lightweight?”

“Because no one gets drunk on butterbeer, which is extremely convenient for me, because I’m tiny, but I do have a reputation to protect. Hey, do you feel like dancing? Just reckon we should go and mingle before we start looking like complete tossers”, she adds.

“Sure.”

He takes her hand and together they make their way towards the dance floor, where several of the other guests are already swaying to the music.

“So, listen”, Ginny says quietly once they’re spinning on the spot, someone near the middle of the room. “I know meeting the parents wasn’t exactly part of the contract, but thanks for doing it anyway.”

“Well, Ron invited me way before this started”, he says.

“Yeah … plus, it would be a bit awkward to break up right before Christmas, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s definitely what I was thinking. Absolutely.”

They fall silent for a moment – the kind of quiet ringing of things unsaid. The music they’ve been dancing to fades out, but no new song starts playing.

Ginny leans closer and whispers: “Uhm, is there a reason half the people here are staring at us?”

Harry looks around. Indeed, the other guests seem to have formed a circle around them, all with a rather curious expression. Just as Harry begins to worry they may have heard too much, he catches Hermione’s eye, who stares at him so urgently he wonders if she’s attempting telepathy. She keeps covertly pointing her index finger at the ceiling without catching anyone’s attention.

“And we have a winner!”, Slughorn’s booming voice announces.

Ginny keeps poking his arm, so Harry looks back at her. “Kiss me. Quick.”

“What?”

And then he spots the mistletoe hanging over their heads.

Half of him wants to wonder how exactly that constitutes as winning anything, but that thought is quickly swept from his mind when Ginny grabs the front of his robes with the hand that isn’t resting on his shoulder. Harry feels himself lean into her when she pulls herself to her tiptoes, and then her lips press against his, leaving his mind blank for one blissful, fleeting moment. He only unfreezes when he feels her mouth leave his, pulling her closer for just a second – or five – longer, and they kiss, and kiss –

Ginny’s neck and cheeks look flushed when she finally takes a step back. She gives him a very odd smile before she grabs his hand, and together, they disappear from the curious onlookers. Harry spots Hermione looking rather smug before the circle around them slowly melts back into the chattering crowd it was moments earlier.

They don’t mention it for the rest of the night.

 

Under any other circumstances, bringing your boyfriend of one month home for Christmas would have been awkward, so it’s a good thing Ginny’s parents already _adore_ Harry. This way, she can save herself the trouble of introducing him as “my boyfriend, Harry” and promptly watching her entire family jump to take a look at him like he’s some sort of exotic animal. As it is, she just grabs his hand before they walk through the front door, and firmly tells everyone to shut up as soon as they stop to stare. Fred dares to wolf-whistle exactly once and promptly points his finger at George when Ginny pulls out her wand. Still, between her mother looking perplexed, but pleased, and her father’s annoyingly unsurprised smile, the whole ordeal is about as bearable as it can be.

There’s still the tiny detail that they’re just pretending, of course.

They make it through dinner without any larger incidents, doing their utmost to change the subject as soon as their relationship comes up. Seeing as they’re trying to handle half a dozen nosy Weasleys at once, that proves to be impossible, so Ginny keeps her wand nearby just in case the twins’ jokes get too sleazy. Since Harry has a knack for sarcasm she’s rather fond of, she’s not too worried, but he doesn’t appear to be in the mood for witty comebacks. Instead, he’s weirdly quiet for most of Christmas Eve, leaving Ginny to do the heavy lifting.

“Alright, I’ve lost count. Remind me, Gin, Harry’s boyfriend number …?”

“Keep talking, George, and you won’t _live_ to open your presents tomorrow.”

“And what kind of present is _Harry_ going to –”

“You’re sure you want to finish that sentence? Really sure?”

Ginny and Harry end up being the last two people down in the kitchen, long after everyone else has gone upstairs – most of them, to wrap their presents at the last minute, she is sure of it. If all the other Christmases she’s ever experienced are anything to go by, at least half of them will sneak downstairs later in the night to stuff their presents under the Christmas tree unseen.

“Sorry about the interrogation”, Ginny says. Harry pulls himself onto the kitchen counter and shrugs.

“It’s fine. Honestly, it wasn’t as annoying as you think it was.”

“You’ve been weird”, she says bluntly, smirking at him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing”, he says promptly. When she quirks an eyebrow, he says: “It’s just – uhm – a bit odd meeting the parents and all. You know, since it’s not actually real.”

“I get that. At least it’s for a good cause, yeah?”

Harry grins. “I know you’re mad at him and everything, and I don’t blame you, but he _is_ my best mate. So I’m not legally allowed to call pissing him off a good cause. But thank you for going to the party with me. I’d rather it was you under the mistletoe than Romilda Vane.”

“Plus, we got to piss off my ex-boyfriend _and_ your ex-girlfriend.”

“Yeah …”

They fall silent for a few seconds before they speak at once:

“I don’t care about pissing off Cho.”

“I don’t care about pissing off Michael.”

They look at each other, and then say, again in unison: “Oh.”

Ginny beats him to it. “You go first.”

Harry shrugs. “That thing with Cho was so short-lived, it was barely a relationship, you know?”

“Yeah.” She comes closer until she can lean against the kitchen counter, right next to where he’s sitting. “Michael’s kind of the same.”

“You were together for months, though, weren’t you?”

“I mean – yeah, but if you asked me what I saw in him, or if I ever even genuinely liked him, I honestly couldn’t tell you. I guess I thought I liked him, or I wouldn’t have gone out with him in the first place, but I don’t – know – anymore. So now I’m not sure how real any of it was.” There’s a weirdly tense pause, where she takes a deep breath, and shrugs. “Turns out I’m pretty bad at discerning what’s real and what isn’t. Between this, and the diary, it looks like it’s becoming bit of a pattern.”

She smirks, but Harry doesn’t reciprocate.

“I guess that didn’t make the breakup with Dean any easier”, he says after a beat of silence.

Ginny smiles flatly. “Dean’s not gay.”

“Huh?”

“He’s dating Seamus, yeah, but he’s not gay. He’s pan. So, you know, it’s not like there was never anything real between us. He didn’t break up with me because I’m a _girl._ It’s just that, at the end of the day, I’m not Seamus.” She shrugs. “I feel like I’m supposed to be more upset than I am, but … I figure if you like someone that much, and if you’re so sure, you should be with them.”

“Yeah”, says Harry, not looking away. His face looks unusually soft in the dim light.

“Bit of a mood-killer”, Ginny says with a half-hearted grin. “My bad.”

“It’s fine. I’ve been there.” When she looks at him, he shrugs and says: “Feeling like you can’t trust your own head? After everything that happened last year? Yeah, I get it.”

“I figured you would”, she says quietly.

And now it’s Harry’s turn to smile, that weird, unamused smile when there’s very little to smile about. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“It makes sense to me”, she says, placing one hand on his arm. If hearing that means half as much to him as it would to her, it’s the most valuable thing she could possibly say.

Neither of them looks away, so she can watch his smile change before her eyes. “Makes a nice change to have someone who doesn’t think you’re barmy when you tell them this stuff”, he says.

“Yeah.”

When did his face come so close?

“Well, I don’t think you’re barmy”, she says quietly.

“I don’t think you are, either.”

“Harry …”

And just as she holds her breath and leans into him, there’s a dull thump from the stairs, and they spin around. The sound of feet scampering up the steps and back to the first floor fades away.

“Sounded like the twins”, Ginny says into the silence.

“Yeah. Definitely two pairs of feet.”

They look at each other, but only briefly.

“So, anyway”, Harry says. “I think your Mum put up the camp bed in Ron’s room, so – she’s probably gonna expect me to sleep there.”

“She will”, Ginny says. “But Ron won’t. It’s gonna look weird if you don’t sleep with – in my room.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Minutes later, Harry is lying on a dozen throw pillows and a Cushioning Charm on Ginny’s bedroom floor. They’re both staring at their respective bit of ceiling, until Ginny shifts on her mattress and says: “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, Ginny.”

The silence stretches on and turns into the sound of slow, steady breathing. When she rolls over, propping her head up on her arm, Harry’s eyes are closed. His face looks more relaxed and centuries younger than it does most days.

She only watches him sleep for a few minutes. It hardly counts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that! This one came with plenty of direct references to the TATBILB movie, so I'd love to find out if you caught any. Please leave a comment, if you fancy, and if all goes according to plan, I will see you tomorrow for the final chapter.


	3. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I am posting this at almost 4 am because there's nothing like procrastinating. Which means I'm technically very late for Boxing Day, but Emi, who requested this story, is from the US, so ... maybe I'm not. Timezones are truly magical.
> 
> Without further ado ... this is Chapter 3.

_Now I know what a fool I’ve been_  
_But if you kissed me now,_  
_I know you’d fool me again_

Last Christmas – Wham!

 

Buckets of snow empty themselves over Scotland just as January rolls around. Soon enough, Hogwarts looks like it’s wearing several fluffy white hats atop its towers. When Ginny, Harry and Ron get off the Hogwarts Express a few days after New Year’s, they immediately sink into a layer of bright, untouched snow, and by the time they reach the castle, their trousers are soaked up to the knee.

“I’ll see you around”, Harry tells her after they’ve all wiped the snowflakes off their jackets, before he follows Ron up to the Gryffindor common room.

“You too”, Ginny mutters, giving his back the stink eye.

Ever since Christmas Eve, he’s been distant and awkward around her. And while she was perfectly happy to blame that on spending the holidays with your pretend girlfriend’s family, she does _not_ see what she did to deserve him giving her the cold shoulder now that they’re back at Hogwarts.

She’d have loved to just be angry at him, but since it’s Harry, she can’t quite manage it, much to her own annoyance. They’ve not been awkward around each other for years now: they’re supposed to be _past_ this. She’s worked too hard to become his friend to watch it all melt away without a fight.

So when the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year rolls around, she decides she’s too frustrated and annoyed with him to let it slide anymore. They’re strolling down the snowy streets of the village, walking hand in hand, when she turns around to look him in the eye and crosses her arms over her chest. At the very least, he seems to understand he’s in trouble, judging by the look on his face, which she finds rather pleasing.

“What’s wrong?”

He blinks. “Nothing.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”, Ginny asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re being – _weird_ with me. You didn’t show up for breakfast this morning, which, you know, is in the contract. I thought we had a deal.”

He helplessly looks around the little street she’s dragged him into, a small alley not far from Hogsmeade’s main road. Ginny watches snowflakes get caught in his dark hair.

“Look, I’m sorry”, he says. “I’m sure no one noticed.”

“I don’t care who noticed or not, I just want to know if you’re okay!”

“Yes!”

There’s a strained little silence, until Harry says: “Alright, look, I think we should call it. The party’s over, Ron is sufficiently pissed off – and I don’t think I want to risk losing my best mate over something that isn’t real.”

Not exactly what Ginny was hoping to hear.

Right there and then, she’d really like to yell at him, remind him of the sodding contract, of the agreement they had – but he’s right. There’s nothing in the contract that keeps them together anymore.

The job is done.

But when they look at each other, he looks just as lost as she feels, like he’s not sure where this leads either.

Like he’s not saying everything, either.

_How do you tell your fake girlfriend you can’t keep dating her because you’re starting to have real feelings?_

“We can’t just break up”, Ginny says firmly.

“Why not?”

“What’s the matter with you, anyway?”, she says loudly. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Hogwarts students walking by, stopping in their steps as they approach, but at this point she’s too pissed off to care about the audience anymore.

She doesn’t even know why she’s mad anymore.

“Just – what the hell is your problem?”

Harry looks at her like he really feels like yelling back, but something shifts in his face, falls away. And before she knows it’s happening, he’s taken two long steps towards her, and then he’s kissing her, _really_ kissing her, and his tongue brushing against hers is warm and brand-new and yet strangely familiar, all at once.

When they break apart, a new and dangerous silence falls. Ginny – for once stumped for something to say – looks around and finds there’s still a small group of second-years staring.

“Good thinking”, she mutters finally, so quietly that only Harry can hear her. “Kept our cover.”

Harry turns on his heels and storms off without another word.

 

By the time Harry makes it back to the castle, the cold has crept into his coat, but he hardly feels himself shiver. He half walks, half runs into the entrance hall and up the marble staircase, watching before his inner eye as he and Ginny strut down the stairs hand in hand, again, and again.

It doesn’t feel so triumphant now.

He reminds himself he could still have that. He could have sat next to her in the Great Hall just this morning, and they would have laughed and set each other up for jokes, and maybe she would have kissed him, and he could have let himself believe that it was real, that it was more than friendship. Just for a moment. And that would have been enough.

Merlin, he doesn’t even know if they’re friends anymore.

“Hello, Harry! You look frozen.”

Harry looks up and narrowly avoids running into her.

“Luna, why aren’t you in Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, I wanted to bring these back to the library”, she says, gesturing towards the stack of books she’s carrying under her arm. Harry spots one he recognises from the Care of Magical Creatures section. “I put some counterpoints in them that I think everyone else will find really interesting.”

“Yeah … that’s great, Luna, I …”

“Didn’t you and Ginny want to go to Hogsmeade together?”

“Just – uhm – came back early, I guess.”

“Well, you seem a bit upset”, she says, in that disarmingly omniscient fashion of hers. “You didn’t get into a fight, did you?”

Harry doesn’t know how to explain breaking up with someone you weren’t dating in the first place, so he shrugs and mumbles: “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Unfortunately, Luna isn’t the kind of person to let someone off the hook quite so quickly.

“Did you break up?”

Maybe he was an idiot to think they could make it to the end of this stupid agreement without messing everything up. That they’d go back to being friends, and that would be the end of it.

Maybe he was just an idiot to think he could.

But it’s true, he reckons: It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s already broken two rules in the contract. Three, really: they may not have put it into writing, but if any of the rules mattered at all, it was definitely _don’t_ _end up falling in love with your pretend girlfriend_ _, you complete tosser._

Ginny’s not an idiot. One way or another, it’s over.

“Hard to break up when you weren’t dating in the first place”, he finds himself saying.

“Oh, Ginny definitely told me you were dating.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t real, alright? We were just pretending, we never ever _actually_ dated. It was an act. None of it was real. Or it wasn’t to Ginny, anyway.”

Luna considers this for a moment, perfectly oblivious to Harry’s raised voice.

“Well, I don’t think that’s true, anyway”, she says, like it’s all that simple.

“You know what, that’s _great_ Luna, really. Good for you. I’ll see you around.”

With that, he brushes past her, determined to hole up in his dormitory for the rest of the day, so he doesn’t have to face Ginny, and he doesn’t have to face Ron, and he doesn’t have to explain something he doesn’t have words for.

There’s nothing real to be explained, anyway.

 

Ginny only makes it back to the main road when there are no piles of snow left for her to kick. Her boots are damp, she can’t feel her toes, but she very well _can_ feel the painful thumping in her chest that just doesn’t seem to fade.

She aimlessly rounds a corner and finds herself standing in front of the Three Broomsticks, wondering if she’s ever been _less_ in the mood for butterbeer. Just as she wants to turn her back to it, she hears a bell jingle and looks up.

Dean and Seamus come out of the Three Broomsticks hand in hand. They’re so busy talking and laughing and smiling at each other, they don’t notice Ginny until they almost run her over, catching her off-guard.

_I figure if you like someone that much, and if you’re so sure, you should be with them._

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Except she’s not sure about anything anymore. What’s real, and what isn’t.

It’s Harry who broke the rules, she tells herself. It’s Harry who made it complicated when it wasn’t supposed to be. That wasn’t the deal.

Merlin, and just when she thought she’d made her peace with being his friend.

The three of them all take a step backwards, exchanging embarrassed smiles.

“Ginny!”, says Dean, looking at her. “You’re here alone?”

“Just heading home, actually”, she says, not particularly keen to explain the whole mess. “Hey, it was good seeing you.”

_I figure if you like someone that much, and if you’re so sure, you should be with them._

 

 _And now you’re never gonna go back again,_  
Video child  
And now you're never gonna get hurt again,  
Video child

Video Child – Many Voices Speak

 

She doesn’t return to Gryffindor Tower for a long time, happy to avoid sitting down or being alone with her thoughts while she can. It’s getting dark outside by the time she climbs through the portrait hole, tossing her Gryffindor scarf into an empty armchair with all the force she can muster.

“Trouble in paradise?”, asks a voice near the fireplace.

It’s Ron. He’s sitting in the armchair on the other side of the room, the one near the window. Playing chess against himself.

He looks a bit pathetic, she thinks. Then again, she must, too.

“If you don’t have a death wish”, Ginny says with clenched fists, “I’d really recommend you shut up right now.”

“What, I’m not allowed to ask?”

And Ginny decides that’s the straw that breaks the hippogriff’s back.

“You”, she says fiercely, pointing a finger at him, “are not _asking_. You’re _judging_. And it’s getting _really_ old, so _please,_ just _stop_ sticking your nose into my love life and _fuck off,_ will you?”

Ron doesn’t explode at her like she hoped he would. At the very least, it would have given her plenty of reason to shoot back, and Merlin if she doesn’t feel ready to scream right now.

“Hold on, something’s actually wrong?”, he says, getting up. “What happened, did you fight?”

“What do you care?”, she shouts. “Are you _happy_ now, Ron? Because you can have him back, I’m done, alright, and I’m done defending myself for every single thing I ever do, I don’t _need_ you slut-shaming me for doing something _everyone else_ in this castle does – turns out, even you, you _fucking_ hypocrite –”

“Well – you’re my sister!”, Ron splutters. “Of course I don’t want to watch you – sticking your tongue down people’s throats –”

“So _don’t!”_ , Ginny yells. “For once in your life, stop obsessing over what I do in my free time –”

“Bit hard to do when you’re flaunting it all over the castle!”, Ron shouts back. “Putting on a show like that, it’s pathetic –”

“If it pissed you off, I guess it worked”, she spits at him. “But guess what, Ron, what happened or didn’t happen between me and Harry – or me and Dean, or me and Michael, or the dozens of other people whose throats I _stuck my tongue down,_ according to you – _none_ of that is your fucking concern anyway, so – you, and the twins, and everyone else, just _stop_ sticking your nose into my business all the time when you hate it so fucking much!”

“LAST TIME WE DIDN’T STICK OUR NOSES INTO YOUR BUSINESS, YOU ALMOST DIED!”, Ron bellows.

It rings through the empty common room and in Ginny’s ears.

“What the hell are you on about?”

Ron rolls his eyes like he can’t believe she’s actually that stupid, and that’s enough to get Ginny’s blood boiling again.

“Are you _kidding_ me, Ginny? We –”

He looks around the empty common room like he’s looking for words. It’s almost manic. “You’re actually surprised we’re paying close attention to you when last time we didn’t, and you – ended up in the Chamber of Secrets? There were _four_ of us there and we didn’t notice, and – well, now it’s just me! Of course –”

“What the _fuck_ does that have to do with who I date?”, she screams. “You don’t get to slut-shame me because you suddenly decide to feel guilty about something that happened when I was eleven!”

“SO I’M BAD AT IT!”, he shouts. “FINE! Are you honestly surprised people say this stuff about you when you break up with Dean and start dating Harry in the _same week_ –”

“I don’t give a shit what everyone else says, but I don’t need that kind of bullshit from my own brother, and for your information, Ron, I could date the entire school before Easter and it _still_ wouldn’t make it okay for you to make me feel like _crap_ about it!”

“Well – maybe I’m looking out for my best mate, too, alright, I –”

“IT’S NOT REAL!”, Ginny screams, and that finally stuns Ron into silence. “We’re not _actually_ dating! After the rumour started making rounds, we _pretended_ we were, because we wanted to get back at our exes, and because we _knew –_ ” She pokes his chest with her index finger. _“_ _I_ _knew_ that you would be the most pissed off if I dated your best mate! That was the fucking point!”

That news shuts him up for all of five seconds.

“That’s low, even for you”, Ron spits. When Ginny opens her mouth again, he adds: “Alright, guess what! I don’t _actually_ care anymore! I did, yes, but you looked happier with him than you did with any of the other guys, and he did with you, so I figured –”

“Did you listen to me at all? _It’s not real, Ron!”_ From far, far away, she can hear footsteps, so apparently the rest of Gryffindor house has finally caught wind of their shouting match. “I’m not in _love_ with Harry! We’re not _actually_ a couple! I dated him because I knew that would hurt you the most! That’s it! That’s all he is to me!”

She’s barely even finished yelling when she sees him.

“Harry –”

But he’s stormed past her and out of the portrait hole before she can say anything.

“Harry, wait!”

Something holds her back; she turns around to find Ron’s hand around her arm. “Let _go!”_

“Don’t –”

“If you don’t let go of me right now, I swear to you, I will _break_ your arm, Ron!”

“ _Listen!”,_ he says furiously. “You don’t want to go after him right now, I’m serious, Ginny, he’s just going to explode. You’re not gonna get through to him right now.” When he sees her face, he says: “I’ve been his best mate for five-and-a-half years, you don’t think I’d know? Just – let him cool down first. He’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t let go until Ginny relaxes and nods, albeit reluctantly. She’s rubbing her upper arm when he finally steps back, and while she’s still glaring at him, she’s not threatening to break any of his other limbs, either.

Ron seems to count that as a win.

“You’re still a prick”, she says.

Ron sighs. “I’m sorry. I know.”

And that shuts Ginny up.

“It’s just – well, you _are_ my little sister, and you were eight, like, yesterday, and now you’re going around snogging and dating all these people, and it’s – weird, is all.”

“Jealous?”, she asks.

Ron considers this for a moment. “No, not really.”

Ginny stops rubbing her arm. Without quite knowing – or caring – who went first, they take a few careful steps towards the sofa in front of the fireplace and sit down on opposite ends.

“Is this really about what happened in my first year?”, she asks. “Because that would be news to me.”

“It was happening right under our nose”, Ron mutters. “And we didn’t notice, none of us, for a _year_ straight. And then we thought you were dead – and you never talked about it afterwards –“

“Oh, so now it’s _my_ fault?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Ginny stares into the fireplace. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”

Silence.

“You really thought I was dead?”, she asks quietly.

Ron seems determined not to look at her. “For a few hours … yeah.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Ron’s the first to break the silence. “I guess we all just – needed you to know we were there and we wouldn’t let anything like that happen again.” When she raises her eyebrow, he says: “It got a bit out of hand. Fair enough. Point taken.”

“I didn’t know you felt so bad about it”, she says.

“What, you never once thought we should have noticed?”

“ _I_ didn’t notice. I was in it so deep by the time I realised something was wrong, I don’t think any of you could have done much.”

“Not sure if that makes me feel better or worse, honestly.”

Ginny grins flatly.

“Still doesn’t justify getting all up in my dating life”, she says. “Merlin, I’ve kissed _four_ people in my entire life.”

“ _Four?_ When did it become four?”

“See, that! That judgemental tone, like four is a lot, and for fuck’s sake, Ron, you shouldn’t care if I’d kissed four- _hundred_ people.”

“Four is a lot to me”, he mutters.

Ginny sighs. “For the record, watching my brother snog someone isn’t _fun_ either”, she says. “You don’t have to make me feel so bad for doing it, though.”

“Well – you don’t have to make me feel bad for not doing it.”

Ginny looks at him out of the corner of her eye and feels some of her anger begin to melt away. With great effort, she says: “Fine. Fair enough.”

Another silence falls. It’s less tense this time, but something balls up at the pit of Ginny’s stomach until she wants to throw up.

“Alright, look”, she says, holding out four fingers. Despite the fact that they stopped shouting minutes ago, she can’t quite help the grim thought that he _better_ appreciate what she’s about to do. “It’s Michael Corner, Dean Thomas”, she says, pulling in a finger for each name. “Harry.”

She stares at her tiny, terrified pinky, the last finger that’s left, and curls it into her closed fist. “And Luna.”

Ron blinks. “Oh.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t _say_ anything!”

“Okay, d’you reckon we can – keep it like that, for now?”

“Fine!”

“Thanks.”

“Actually –”

“ _What?”_

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, because it’s not supposed to sound like I think it will, but – _when?_ You and Harry have been fighting for, what, a few hours?”

Ginny fights the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she looks at him, _really_ looks at him, for what feels like the first time in years. “Luna was my first.”

“Oh. Cool. Gotcha.”

Ginny lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“And you were really faking it this whole time?”

“Hey, Harry was _in_ on it”, she says sharply. “It’s not like I lied to him, alright? There’s a sodding contract and everything. He knew what he was getting himself into, he _agreed_ to it –”

“Yeah, fine, whatever”, says Ron. “It’s just – uhm – he _is_ my best mate and all, and no matter what you two agreed on or didn’t agree on, I’ve never seen him look at someone with such a stupid, besotted look on his face. Fake relationship or not, Harry’s not _that_ good an actor.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t really part of the contract”, Ginny mutters, more to herself than to Ron.

“And you always liked him”, he points out.

“Shut up, this is _not_ what this is. This isn’t the dumb celebrity crush I had on _famous Harry Potter_ when I was, what, ten? This is my _real_ crush on the _real_ Harry – oh, shit.”

“Got there at last, have you?”

“I’m going to _kill you.”_

Ron grins.

Ginny stares at him. “You know, I can’t believe you don’t care. And here I was, thinking Harry would piss you off the _most.”_

“If you _really_ wanted to piss me off”, Ron says wisely, “dating some great git would have worked a lot better than dating the _one_ bloke I know for _sure_ won’t just go and break your heart.”

Ginny pokes his shoulder. “I’m sorry, are you really giving us your _blessing_ right now?”

“Don’t make me change my mind”, he says, looking like he can’t quite believe it either.

“Bit late for that, anyway.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Just give him some time to – I don’t know, break something. You get it.”

Their longest silence yet falls upon the common room. The fireplace paints their faces red and auburn and gold as they both stare into the flames.

“What happened to us?”, Ginny asks finally.

 Ron shrugs.

“You felt really far away there, for a bit”, he says. “You know, after everything that happened your first year … sometime after that, I don’t know, it’s like you started to change in all sorts of ways, but I only really got to watch it from afar, and half the time I didn’t know what was going on inside your head.”

“Yeah, turns out I like it better when people don’t know what’s going on inside my head all the time”, she says bitterly. “Kind of backfired before.”

They’re not looking at each other again.

“You felt far away, too”, she says after a while. Very quietly. “And you didn’t always.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was a git, and I’m sorry we didn’t do – more …”

“It’s … fine.”

Ron doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he raises his hand and pats her shoulder instead, and maybe that says it all.

“So – assume I go and try to make things right with Harry”, she says. “You’re not gonna be a git about it?”

Ron sighs and looks at the ceiling. “Just … tell me to close my eyes before you snog him or something.”

There’s a beat of silence until Ginny can’t hold back her snort anymore.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have a surprise for you tomorrow. Until then - one more time with feeling: Merry Christmas! Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter.


	4. Epilogue: Cool Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! A bonus chapter!

“ _I’d always fantasized about falling in love in a field, but I just never thought it’d be the kind where you played lacrosse.”_

Lara Jean Song Covey – “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before”

 

***

 

“I figured I’d find you here.”

Over the past few days, the snow has melted. The bright, cool January sun hangs in a pale blue sky over the Quidditch pitch that’s frozen under her feet, and both their breaths turn into clouds in front of their mouth.

Harry is bent over the trunk of Quidditch gear when she comes closer, which he’s carried into the middle of the field, next to his Firebolt. He’s kneeling in front of it with his back to Ginny, and he only looks around when she’s standing right behind him.

Once he does, he gets to his feet with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Practice doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not here for practice.”

He looks past her around the frosty pitch, toying with the Quaffle in his hand. His cheeks are red from the cold. After a beat of silence, he tosses her the Quaffle, and she catches it with ease.

“Don’t let your Captain hear you say that”, he says quietly.

“He’ll be okay”, she says, not looking away even when Harry does. “Won’t he?”

He seems determined not to look at her, stubbornly refusing to meet her eye even when he says: “You want your scrunchie back.”

“I – what?”

He reaches into the sleeve of his Quidditch jumper and pulls the crimson-and-gold hairband from his wrist, holding it out to her, but Ginny doesn’t move to take it.

“You still have that”, she says.

There’s an awkward pause as Harry slowly lowers his arm.

“I’m sorry I broke the rules, anyway”, he says.

“I don’t _care_ about the rules. Or about the contract. Harry, could you – look at me, just for a second?”

He does.

“You weren’t supposed to hear – what you heard, the other day”, she says.

Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Listen, I’m sorry”, she says. “I say stupid things when I’m angry, but it’s not true. You’re my friend. You’re more than what I said.”

Harry looks away again. “We can be friends.”

“You’re not hearing me.”

She steps closer, until her nose is an inch from his, even if it means having to look up at him. Harry doesn’t step back.

“You said it’s not real”, he says. It’s not so much an accusation as it is a question, though Ginny doesn’t miss the hurt in his voice.

“Yeah, maybe I was wrong, okay?”

He doesn’t answer, but he’s looking at her again, and she counts that as a win.

“It’s just that I’m really happy to be friends with you at all”, she says. “And you know, if that’s all it is, then I’ll be okay with that. I’d rather be friends with you than not be anything at all. Because I _like_ you. I like hanging out with you, and I like playing Quidditch with you and – and if that’s okay with you, I’m going to kiss you right now.”

Harry’s hands find their way into her hair when she finally puts her hand on the back of his neck and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. He’s warm and brand-new and yet strangely familiar, all at once: When Ginny’s tongue brushes against his, he wraps an arm around the small of her back, kissing her back yet more fiercely, until their lungs can’t take it anymore.

When they finally break apart, Harry is smiling. Really smiling.

“Ron knows”, she says.

“Huh?” He looks a bit too dazed to care; she can’t help but feel strangely pleased about the sight.

“I told him”, she says. “The whole story.”

“How’d he take it?”

“He’s … weirdly okay with it. Maybe we underestimated him.”

“So I don’t have to fear for my life when I go back to my dormitory tonight?”

“Nah”, she says, grabbing the front of his jumper. “Only if you’re planning on breaking my heart.”

There’s a fraction of a second, before she kisses him again, when they lock eyes, and Ginny looks at him like she’s seeing him for the very first time. Like, in some way, he just changed in front of her eyes, becoming even more real, just when she thought he couldn’t anymore.

But he does – he is. For a second there, before she kisses him again, he’s the only real thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that REALLY brings us to the end of A particular brotherly feeling. I hope you had fun reading it: I had fun writing it. Thank you to Emi for requesting this story and giving me something to do this December. (This whole story was written over the course of about two weeks. Including some really late nights. I had am absolute BLAST.)
> 
> Thank you for reading - let me know if you liked it. Again, I'll leave you with a link to the soundtrack, if you're interested: https://open.spotify.com/user/stuckwith-harry/playlist/2u89IK6Z9POccPXhmsYq0p?si=D3D719baTS-rf5zqFam5OQ
> 
> I love u! Bye!


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